An Abundance of Angstiness
by Thatdammarauder
Summary: Exactly what the title says: just some chapters of angst. "Stupid Mr. Potter it's always Mr. Potter the boy who lived who they could never let go but not Harry just plain Harry"-Third chapter: Harry laments and endures counseling with a mediwitch.
1. Chapter 1: Remembrance

An Abundance of Angstiness

"We die to remember what we live to forget."-Friedrich Nietzsche

Ch. 1: Remembrance

 **AN: Angst? Angst. And by the way, I don't own anything. This is in the Department of Mysteries.**

 _What's great,_ Sirius thinks, about the human mind, _is that we can't remember everything_.

But that is exactly what he's trying to do.

He supposes that the irony should please him, and he can appreciate it, in the typical weird humor of his.

The memories overwhelm him in floods. Exploding dung bombs in the night: sounding to them as weirdly celebratory. Hundreds of parties where Moony dragged them off the ground, and a few in which they hauled his arse up from the couch, grinning. Cramming for tests next to Lily, smirking as they silently levitated their answer sheets up for each other to copy. And finally, at graduation, kissing McGonagall on the cheek, and saying, "We'll miss you, Minnie," and smiling, teary eyed, because this time, they actually meant it.

He tries to remember the past, because everything is too much in the present: Harry, looking so much like James and pushing his hair out of his eyes ("Pads, help me do something about my hair") and then the hair is pushed out of the way and Sirius feels like he's been kicked in the chest because that's the eyes of their Lilyflower.

 _That's what a child is,_ Remus would say, _they look like their parents._

He's (drowningchokingingriefandmemories)

okay.

He's always okay. But he did not notice the bright purple spell piercing through the air.

"Sirius!"

He notices floppy dark hair tackling him to the ground to avoid the spell and smiles as he gets up.

"Good one, Potter. Now let's see if you can do better."

They step up together, shoulder to shoulder, and the boundaries are blurry now, with the spells sent and received, debris crashing down around them in an epic way that is not unlike the muggle movies they used to watch in Muggle sees a particularly good _confundus_ spell shot in the direction of two now cursing death eaters who have bumped into each other in the head and fallen to the ground. He inhales, the adventure and adrenaline going deep into his bones, and because of nothing and everything, he mutters, "Your auror parents ought to be proud of you, James."

The head next to him pops up, green eyes wide in alarm. Sirius suddenly has to remind himself that James is dead, and so is Lily.

The world is then in pieces, broken, like pieces of glass in an (What do you call them, action movies?) smashed by the villain, breaking in. They stare at each other for a few seconds, processing what has just happened.

But they can't afford a few seconds.

A spell hits Sirius, and he crumbles, slipping behind a billowing veil. But he swears the last thing he sees is a bittersweet smile from his best friend with voice breaking, saying, "Thanks, Padfoot. You know my parents are proud of you, too. And-and so am I."


	2. Chapter 2: That Little Girl

Ch. 2: That Little Girl

" **It doesn't take much to break someone."-me**

 **AN: Why the fuck not?**

 _It's a shame_ , they say.

 _They probably couldn't make it in time for the wedding,_ they say.

 _I heard they live in Australia now_ , they say.

Hermione just tries not to sob and listens to Mrs. Weasley's speech delivered to her misty-eyed son.

And she suddenly regrets that she kept the two front row seats empty.

"It's a lovely home," she says.

They nod.

"I-I like it, very much," She carefully measures her words.

"Thank you," the elderly woman beam at her, and the man offers a grudging smile.

She wonders if they know that she was here, a long time ago as a little girl in their embrace.

"It's a lovely ring you have. Are you married, dear?" The woman asks.

Hermione wonders if she can refer to her as Mrs. Granger. She wouldn't remember, she decides eventually, and tries to to think of the muggle name she appointed them those years ago.

"Yes, I am. Uh, two days ago."

"Oh, congrats, dear child!" The woman smiles, flashing her bright white teeth at Hermione.

 _Having good teeth is very important, Hermione,_ she remembers.

"I-yes. Thank you, Mrs…?"

"Malfoy, dear."

Of course. Of course she did. Amidst the panic and hatred, she thought of a child nemesis. And thought of how easy it must be to give up to it all.

"Mrs and Mr. Malfoy," She addresses them politely, but could still not banish the awful taste from her mouth, "Thank you for the tea. I must be going now, seeing my parents aren't here."

The man-Dad ( _daddy I'm home and you're here you are but you're not, do you see what I mean? and I never thought it would be this hard I need to go now please take care of mum. I'm married now you weren't there you have to understand I wanted you both there but I love you I love you I love you so I can't. did you just hear dad, mum loved my ring I've always known she would. they're coming for you both, daddy, they're coming and I'm protecting you I'm not young and afraid anymore I'm old now but still so so afraid of the world collapsing in on top of itself and I'm running but I'm protecting you I swear. I might never see you again. fuck Merlin I'm sorry I'm sorry this wasn't meant to happen this way-_ )

Hermione shakes her head. No. Not now.

The man asks, "What did you say your parents' name was, Miss?"

"Granger. Mr and Mrs. Granger." She directs it at them this time, grasping desperately onto the hope that maybe…

"I'm sorry miss," There isn't a single crinkle in her forehead (howcouldshehow _could_ sheforget), "I'm afraid we haven't heard of them."

"Of course," she replies, "Thank you." (Runawayrunawayrunawaynow.)

(Run away like the scared little girl you still are and don't you ever come back. Don't you see they're happy without you: not even a memory)


	3. Chapter 3: The Boy Who Runs Away

Ch. 3: The Boy Who Runs Away

 **AN: Huh.**

 **"You said you knew the perfect place to run to. A place that was empty of people, and buildings, and far, far away. A place covered in blood-red earth and sleeping life. A place longing to come alive again. It's a place for disappearing, you'd said, a place for getting lost... and for getting found. I'll take you there, you'd said. And I could say that I agreed." - "Stolen: A Letter to My Captor"**

"Mr. Potter, you ought to be thinking more about this," she says.

Harry nods because he

(hates this hates this so much he thinks he's crazy of course they all do stupid ministry and their stupid mediwitches pretending to be concerned with his so called "well being" and trying to be psychologists even though they never are)

doesn't care about any of this.

"Mr. Potter?"

He

(can't she's calling him Mr. Potter with that look "He's the Savior of the Fucking World" it's how everyone looks at him even Ron and Hermione sometimes when all he's ever wanted is to be normal again Merlin)

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but you need to give an answer in order for this to work," she prompts.

(Stupid it's always the boy who lived who they could never let go but not Harry just plain Harry)

"No," he answers, and he's surprised by how shaky he sounds. Weak, Voldemort spits, a weak, weak, child.

He thinks back on when he was a winner, a conqueror, and a miracle. Just a child, he realizes, and still a child. But he tries again.

"No." His answer was shakier than ever.

"Excuse me? Sir?"

"You don't have the right over me, you're just a mediwitch with a minimum healer's education, not a psychiatrist or whatever the bloody hell you're pretending to be," Words are sprouting out of his mouth now, he doesn't know what they are, but the mediwitch appears to have been slapped, and there is no way out, so he continues.

"Because that's who I am, right? Harry Fucking Potter, the savior, and that's why I can do whatever I want, whatever I want. I can fire you, I can walk out, and I can turn into a Muggle just so you can't catch me and lock me inside this cage of a hospital again!"

"Mr. Potter, you need to calm down-"

(Bollocks, all of it. He doesn't want this, and of all their psychiatrists, shouldn't the ministry know that? At first he was a naive little Muggle with crooked glasses, so the "oh you're Harry Potter" was okay, nice even, if you think about it. Fame and wealth, that was what the little boy squashed under the cupboard wanted, so that he can show them all. But now he's a grown wizarding adult who's too broken to live on like they expect him to, and it's torturous and agonizing, the constant of just being alive.)

He storms out, swearing to himself that if she asks him to talk about the time he died for 11 seconds, just on some off chance they would catch him and stuff him back in there, he would die again just to avoid everything.

Because he is and always will be The Boy Who Runs Away.


End file.
